Rock Me
by tellmesweetlies
Summary: Harry is an unsocial journalist and Draco is a wild rock star, but when fire meets ice will sparks fly...or burn down the entire show? AU, HPDM.


Summary: Harry is a journalist and Draco is a wild rock star, but when fire meets ice will sparks fly…or burn down the show?

Warnings: This is an AU slash story…guess who the happy couple is? I apologize if some details in the story are a little off, I've never spent a week with a rock star, so please forgive me.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, still not rich, don't sue.

The night was an all-encompassing blanket, absorbing all sound, heat, and light. I walked along, and paused under one of the streetlights that light this small random street somewhere in Atlanta. The light slightly warmed the chilly fall air. I look at the cold and lonely pavement lying behind me, watching the streetlamps glow pierce the darkness like spotlights. I smiled ruefully, my troubled mind suddenly whipping back to the rock show I was supposed to be attending.

I starred up into the lamp and let the light wash over me. The cold lifeless metal was like a toy soldiers, placed by their masters, unable to move and decide their own fate. I felt like one of them for a moment, felt as if I'd been placed here against my will, as if I had no will at all.

For what seemed the hundredth time that night I sighed, wondering how my life had become so hopelessly complicated.

It seemed easy enough, write an article about the up and coming rock band, Misplaced Faith. Interview the lead singer, and viola, an article. In my journalism career I'd faced tougher opponents.

Of course the band had to be starting on their tour they day my boss scheduled the interview and of course the due date was a day, just a day before the band got back into town.

And of course 'this article could put this paper in a new league! We need this interview Harry, and you're the only one young enough in this office to pull it off.' Those were Dudley Dursley's exact words. God damn him, I can't believe that stupid pig is my boss.

So somehow I end up on tour with 'The next Beatles,' as Rolling Stones calls them. I'm the most non-rock and roll guy ever. I'm just not into all the punk and rock stuff. I think Dudley gave me this article just because he knows I don't like rock…and because he hates me. I think he's just jealous because I have a head of full thick luxurious hair and he's balding at the ripe old age of thirty.

I sighed again and plopped down on the concrete curb. I buried my face in my hands and attempted to rub out the past though days from my mind. I figured if I rubbed my face enough then I'd suddenly be stuck with amnesia and found by some kind sexy man/woman who'd nurture me back to health….and call me pussycat.

The air was actually getting colder. I looked up at the sky half hoping there'd be a giant clock to tell me what time it was. "I should get back to the concert." I said to myself. I thought about getting back on my feet before dismissing it quickly.

I looked back up the street and again sighed. I had no idea where I was. All I could see was the black of the pavement and the light of the streetlamps , shining down on small round patches of blackness. I could see the sparkling lights of the city against the blackness of the night.

I guess I got pretty far from stadium. I couldn't even see the bright lights of it on the horizon. There were no sparkles, or the pillars of fire Draco had insisted on using.

Draco. I smiled at his name, his laughter, and his odd jokes, how he always drank Diet Pepsi in the mornings, not coffee like a regular person. I wrapped my arms around my knees and huddled under that light thinking of Draco. How pathetic. I guess I'm just a pathetic guy.

And that's when I heard footsteps. Not the regular soft padding of sneakers, but instead a sharp click like a woman's heel. Except a woman's heel had a softer click then this, and a fast click. The click of an Italian leather boot, complete with real silver snaps. My smile grew and I looked up to see a figure stumbling towards me.

The low-rise leather pants glimmered in the faint light, the studded belt that held them up also glittered. His belly button ring tonight was a black stone, earlier it had been the same ice blue as his eyes.

His shirt was a black tank top with a scull on it, cut short to just above his ribs, underneath was a mesh shirt with a spiky choker. Toss over all this was an over sized leather coat.

I turned my head away from him as those boots clicked to a stop right near my side. I thought he'd nudge me with his boot and yell. I thought he'd yank me up and drag me back to the bus. But he did the last thing I ever though he would.

He crumpled down beside me on the curb, so close his hip pressed into mine. My entire body tensed and I think he felt it. Draco suddenly tossed his arms around my shoulders and pressed me against his body.

"Your such a stupid pussycat." Draco whispered harshly.

My eyes were wide and I was blushing bright pink. "Shouldn't you be at the concert?"

"You weren't there." Draco said as if that made perfect sense. That was how Draco was though, everything he said made sense to him.

"…Does it matter to you?" I growled.

"Yeah, I went back stage for a costume change and when you weren't there I thought you got knocked into the crowd or something." Draco murmured, his voice was hoarse and fuzzy, it was always hoarse after he sung though. "I got so scared, Pussycat."

"Quit calling me Pussycat." I finally sighed.

"Shut up Pussycat." Draco whispered affectionately, he kissed the top of my head and held me there. I shivered and he clutched me tighter. The silence hung between us and Draco finally broke it, "I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I regret it…" Draco murmured.

I thought for a moment before cuddling closer to his body. "Yeah, I think you missed your Pussycat."

"I did."

A/N: Soooo disturbing or what? All right well review if you want more, I take one word reviews too so don't try and be constructive, but constructivity is also welcomed.


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